Warcraft - Inquistion
by efhb1994
Summary: Grom Hellscream didn't face his demise with his victory over Mannoroth, by divine intervention he was sent to Thedas after the Breach stopped growing in the sky. The Legendary Warsong Chieftain sets out to discover a world gone mad and on the brink of tearing itself apart. His mysterious survival causes ripples which may alter the fate of Azeroth and Thedas in this epic crossover.
1. Chapter 1

The infernal smell of sulfur and brimstone stang in the air in that dark and cursed ridge, cracks lithered all over the place and glew with a sickly green color. Grommash Hellscream, Chieftain of the Warsong Clan strode forward with his axe, Gorehowl in hand. His wild black hair with an exception for a long ponytail was hanging loose on his bare shoulders, a single pauldron strapped to a single thick bandolier across his torso diagonally to his girdle. The bare chest was covered with ritualistic tattoos where upon his lower jaw, was tattooed solid black. The sickly green skin and the uneeringly glowing crimson eyes, the ring through his nose and the rings pierced by the edges of his pointy ears gave him a nightmarish appearance.

Accompanying him was his Warchief, Thrall. The son of Durotan was younger than him and his blue eyes were in contrast with his green skin as he was clad in the doomplate armor once worn by the old warchief Orgrim. He was armed with the legendary Doomhammer along his hair was let loose aswell. They were both striding forth carefully in the canyon, both there for a single purpose.

Then it came, an omnious presence and coarse and booming voice which in all account would send fear into the spines of mortals. The owner was laughing coarsely like stone scraping the surface of more stone. _"So predictable."_ the owner said with another laugh as the two orcs looked around to locate the demon _"I knew you would come."_

_"And I see you brought the mighty Hellscream."_ said the unsettling voice which echoed across the area as they heard the rumbling of earth and the slithering sound of a gigantic tail. Then they heard the voice again, behind them!_"His blood is mine to command!"_

Grommash Hellscream turned around with Gorehowl in hand as he came face to face with a being which shared a resemblance to Genesaurs, a race of colossal size back on Draenor which were revered as demigods by the lesser primal races, the Botani. This being had four legs by his lower body but that's where the resemblance ended. He had a tail, slithering and thick along with wings upon his torso and two arms holding a gigantic polearm. Two horns seemed to have growned out from his jawlines shaped like sickles. But the most menacing was the scent of brimstone and the fire burning across from the top of his head and along his spinal cord. _"As is your whole misbegotten race!"_ rumbled the pit lord with a crackling laughter as he thrust the rear end of his gigantic polearm into the ground.

Thrall raised his hammer as he let out a fierce roar, swung doomhammer over his head and into the ground as he made his plea to the elements heard. Imbued the hammer with the power of the world itself as he hurled it towards the gigantic demon. There was a bright light and a shockwave which had the two avert their eyes until they looked back and saw the demon unharmed. _"A worthy effort but futile!"_ Mannaroth the Destructor bellowed as he charged and swung his gigantic polearm down to the ground which had the very earth heave in a way which sweeped the young warchief aside to the canyon wall. Hellscream himself staggered and lost the grip of his weapon as the demonic leviathan set his eyes upon him and laughed.

_"The boy believed you could be saved."_ he bellowed with a taunt as the Warsong Warlord grasped around the neck of Gorehowl, looking up with his crimson eyes at the demon _"But the didn't know what burns in your soul. Within your heart, you know that we are the same."_ Grommash panted as he looked down, was it true. He remembered to his early days when he lead aggressive raids into Ogre territory. How his mate had been killed and how he was lead into a trap and taken capture, strapped to a tree where the ogres let him starve to break his spirit in the blunt and harsh heat of Draenor's sun. His body had withered and became emicated but his will never wavered. His will was unbreakable then and despite his so called weakened state, he managed to kill the ogre lord who had taunted him for so long. He was the Warlord with the Iron Will. He looked up, rage in his eyes as he remember who he was as he let out a horrific, earsplitting shriek of a battle cry as he rose and charged into battle.

The Pit lord was momentarily starteld but swung the polearm in order to block the approach as the Warsong Chieftain leaped and cleaved through the attack with a mighty swing, using every ounce of energy and muscle behind it.

Gorehowl pierced through the armor and struck deeply into the chest. Mannaroth roared out in pain as his entire being started to glow with infernal fire. The pit lord was dying and what came next could've been fatal as he burned more and more as the Chieftain staggered backwards. He couldn't move as suddenly, flames erupted towards him and everything went dark.

_…_

Maxwell Trevelyan was groaning as he woke up, squinting his eyes as he gazed around and quickly deduced that he was inside of a cabin which through its sheer simplicity is a welcomed sight for the nobleman. Upon seeing him, she dropped whatever she carried and gasped. Staring at him like if he was something spectacular. _"I didn't know you where awake, I swear!"_

Maxwell smiled, _"Don't worry about it. I only-"_ but was interrupted in the middle of his response as the she-elf suddenly got down on her knees and bowed before him. _"I beg your forgivess and blessing. I am but a humble servant."_ she pleaded as Trevelyan rose to a sitting position on the bedside. _"You're back in Haven, my lord."_

_"They said you saved us. The breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand."_ He had almost forgotten about that but when he was looking down at the green glowing mark on his left hand which was slightly crackling with energy he realised that he wanted to do nothing more than forget.

_"It's all anyone has talked about the last three days."_ she hastily explained as he proceeded to rubble his tempels. He was the youngest child of House Trevelyan of Ostwick and raised to become a devout follower of the Andrastian faith which was something he was a bit reluctant about, he recalled having travelled to the Conclave at the Temple of Sacred Ashes to attend the negotiation between the mage rebellion and the templar order with her holiness the divine as mediator.

After that it's a blank sheet like a huge lapse in his memory. He woke up as a prisoner and being suspected of having killed the divine and destroyed the temple through some dark magic. He wasn't even a mage! He remember being interrogated by the right and left hand of the divine; Lady Cassandra and Leliana. Afterwards he was let out and offered a choice to help sealing the breach in the sky where he under escort of the Seeker met Varric Thedas and that elf apostate Solas who had grasped his hand and managed to seal a rift.

It was also the first time he had fought demons. He relied on his sword and shield, a most terrifying experience for anyone to endure! He had managed to seal the rifts along the way. Wait, didn't she say that the breach stopped growing? Trevelyan let out a sigh of relief, _"Then the danger is over."_

_"The breach is still in the sky, but that's what they say."_ she said as she quit growling and crawled back up to her feet, hastily staggering back out through the door. _"I'm certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you've wakened. She said, at once."_

_"And where is she?"_ Trevelyan inquired as he rose to his feet as the Elf answered _"In the chantry, with the Lord Chancellor. At once. She said!"_ before promptly exiting in what he saw as fright which in he honestly found unsettling. Also, Lady Cassandra was meeting with the Lord Chancellor, that clerk who thought he was responsible for all of this? He shook his head as he could tell that this could only get worse. He didn't know what he expected when he exited a cabin but certainly not a crowd!

A parade of soldiers facing one another with a path in between. Behind the soldiers where the commonfolk who murmured and whispered among themselves as he made his way to the Chantry. _"That's him, the Herald of Andraste."_ which had Trevelyan to perk a brow. By the Maker, did they believe him to be something holy? He was sure to get his answers as he approached chantry where the chantry clerics stood outside dressed in their gowns. One of the sisters spoke to one another. _"Chancellor Roderick says that the Chantry wants nothing to do with us."_ where upon another responded _"That isn't Chancellor Roderick's decision to make, sister."_

He shook his head as he entered the hallowed grounds of the Chantry as he murmured a prayer to Andraste to give him strength because he found the situation more absurb for every passing moment. He heard voice behind the door of the far end. One of them belonging to the Seeker while the other the Lord Chancellor. Maxwell took a deep breath before he entered the chambers which halted the heated discussion. By each side of the doorway stood two templar in their polished and maintained armor, standing firmly at attention while the Lord Chancellor Roderick, a middle-aged man in the gowns of the chantry stood upright in a valiant attempt to assume authority and was the first to speak to him with a finger raised accusingly. _"Chain him. I want him prepared for travel to the capital for trial."_

_"Disregard that, and leave us."_ commanded Lady Cassandra Pentagast who was a woman with a short cut hair with a light scar on her cheek, clad in light armor above the indigo dyed clothes underneath. Her chestplate was decorated with the andrastian symbol. Her command had the two templars incline their heads and brought their fists across their chests before departing the room.

_"You walk a dangerous line, seeker."_ the Lord Chancellor scowled back at the younger but more intimidating woman whom turned her head, scolding him more scrutinizing than the glorified clerk ever could as she responded with her nevarren accent. _"The breach is stable. But is still a threat. I will not ignore it."_

Maxwell mustered his courage as he proceeded to speak with his own accent. _"So I'm still a suspect, even after what we just did."_ which had the Lord chancellor almost hiss back at him with obvious contempt. _"You absolutey are."_

_"No, he is not."_ Pentagast commented as her scowling grew more intense at the Lord Chancellor. The other woman, Leliana recognizable in her own lighter garments and a hood pulled up to conceal her features from a side-way glance but when seeing her up-front, her beauty was undeniable and she spoke with what was recognized as an orlesian accent _"Someone was behind the explosion at the conclave. Someone most holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others – or have allies who yet live."_ She spoke as her cold predatory gaze was directed towards the Lord Chancellor.

_"_**_I_** _am a suspect?"_ Roderick retorted with disbelief. Leliana didn't seem to pause to let him sweat on the hinted accusation._"You, and many others."_ which had the man scoff at the notion as he made his comment known. _"But not the prisoner."_

_"I heard the voices in the temple. The Divine called to him for help."_ Cassandra further argued which had the chancellor's face flush with frustration. _"So his survival, that thing on his hand – all a coincidence?"_

Though his question was sound the seeker was quite to dispute it with her own words. _"Providence. The Maker sent him to us in our darkest hour."_ which had his brows perked as Maxwell proceeded to protest. _"With all due respect, I'm_ **_not_** _the chosen one."_

Cassandra just narrowed her delicate brows as she responded promptly. _"No matter what you are, or what you believe. You are exactly what we needed when we needed it."_ she turned around and proceeded to wak to a table as Leliana approached the long table as she continued the debate. _"The Breach remains, and your mark is still our only hope to close it."_

_"This is_ **_not_** _for you to decide."_ Roderick protested, his face now so red as he looks like he's about to burst when Cassandra suddenly returns with what looks like a thick tome which she dropped with a big thunk to the table. The tome was thick as a brick, filled with pages as the frames of the book had metal to reinforce the structure but upon the cover was the andrastian sun with an eye as its center.

_"You know what this is, Chancellor. A writ from the divine, granting us the authority to act."_ Cassandra bellowed forward as she pointed her finger to the tome as she saw the blood drain from the man's face while she continued to speak vigorsly which combined with her nevarren accent made every fiber of his being stand alert _"As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn."_

Roderick was walking backwards, his face blank as a clean sheet as Cassandra approached him with accusional finger repeatedly lashed at him. _"We will close the breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your approval."_ She bellowed as Roderick's eyes shifted before he hastily left the chambers without any further comments.

Leliana approached the tome as she spoke with a soft tone which had a beautiful melody with her faint orlesian accent. _"This is the Divine's directive: rebuild the inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos."_ She looked up at Maxwell as she spoke with a hint of the dire situation at hand _"We aren't ready. We have no leader. No numbers, and now no chantry support."_

_"But we have no choice: we must act now. With you at our side."_ Cassandra added as to make their point clear, they weren't condemning him. They wanted his assistance, to have him of all people in their inquisition. Maxwell pondered for a moment as he proceeded to asking questions for details which they answered patinetly. Apparently the inquisition of old preceeded the chantry as people who banded together to resore order in a wolrd gone mad. After they laid down their banners and formed the Templar Order which according to Cassandra had lost their way.

He couldn't help but agree with Cassandra's sentiment regarding the templars and the current situation was dire without question. Thedas did need those who can do what must be done under a single banner once more.

_"If you're truly trying to restore order..."_ he spoke in consent to join the Inquisition as the both women nodded in approval of his decision. _"That is the plan."_ Lelianna verbally responded without as much as a smile while Cassandra took a step forward. _"Help us fix this before it's too late."_ The Seeker said with the same vigor but more friendly than previously as she extended her hand. He knew the custom as he took as step forward and grasp it, shaking in agreement. He somehow knew in his heart that nothing will ever be the same again.

…

Voices, he heard so many voices crying out in pain. Human voices then another more comprehendable. _"Wake up, Son of Golmash."_ With those words in his head, he snapped his eyes upon. No one had called him son of golmash for a very long time and those who had called him such was long since dead.

He looked around as he held his axe, Gorehowl in a close grip as he laid on his back in some forest but not the woodlands of Ashenvale. Hellscream frowned as the forest reminded him of the one back in the Eastern Kingdoms but that was at the other side of the world. He pushed himself up as he took a closer look around, was he dead? No, the ancestors would've come and greeted him for his honourable death in combat. His frown deepened as he started to walk, the forests in its entirity was foreign to him and with the absence of his fellow orcs, it was easy to conclude that he was somewhere far away. He wondered what happened to Mannaroth, Thrall and the Horde but he didn't have time to dwell in such thoughts for long.

The legendary warlord froze up as he heard something beyond the ridge, was it combat he heard? A grin started to form on his face as his grip on his axe tightened as he approached and was in for a surprise. What he saw humans, blasted pigskins which had imprisoned his kin in camps fighting one another!

One group were lightly clothed with staves in their hands, formulating spells which they hurled at the metalclad meatshields who charged with a ferocity which Grom had to admit was admirable. All the same they were humans and they would attack him as soon as they noticed him. He really only had one choice as he spurted forth with horrific, earsplitting shriek of a battle cry heard throughout the valley. The birds franticly battered their winds to get away, clouding the skies in sheer panic as the Warlord closed the distance and the battle was joined.

His opponents were startled, some of the younger even soiled their pants as they saw the nightmarish creature charging in and cut through their ranks like a sickle through wheat! Despite that he was staining the soil with human blood, the two groups still fought each other equally as much as they fought him.

The armored meatshields tried to surround him but he swirled around with his axe, the sheer momentum of the swing was relentless and brutally shattered their ranks. No one who stood toe to toe to him lived and none of their mages managed to contain him either as his free hand grasped the weapon of the humans and hurled it at the mage before he could cast his spell, piercing the lungs which gave the mage an agonizing death.

He had moved with brutal precision and grace of a Blademaster as he cut them all down. Grommash Hellscream was the undisputed victor as he stood undefeated stained with the human blood. He lifted the one remaining human alive by the collar. _"Tell me where I am and I'll grant you a swift death."_ After having his answer that he was in the Hinterlands, north of a crossroad. Grommash dropped the man down, raised Gorehowl into the air and swung it down, the metal sang as it chopped off the man's head. Hellscream took a note of their different armor and armaments as they was less thick than those he was accustomed to fight against, still it didn't matter as he even after all these years was undefeated.

**Author's Note:** I've decided to revise this chapter a bit, correct some grammar errors along providing with an author's note. Just to clarify, there will be some AU elements with the Warcraft parts of the story which may or may not impact the story further down the road. All the same I hoped you've had an enjoyable read so far!


	2. Chapter 2

_"__Does it trouble you?" _Cassandra Pentagast asked as she walked besides Trevelyan now clad in his new inquisition uniform with a sword sheathed in a scabbard hanging by his hip and the shield adorned with the andrastian symbol. He glanced to his left at her, he knew what he meant but he was hard to read with his rough features. _"I wish I could get rid of it."_

_"__We have need of it yet."_she replied stoicly towards the nobleman with a straight face retorted neutrally _"So you've mentioned." _Cassandra saw the traits of nobility in how spoke and moved, the Ostwick accent does the trick too.

_"__What's important is that your mark is stable, as is the breach. You've given us time, and Solas believe a second attempt might succeed – provided the mark has more power." _She proceeded to explain, elaborating further about had to be done. _"The same level of power used to open the breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by."_

_"__Couldn't that kind of power make things worse?" _he inquired as he perked his brow a bit, hinting some nervousity for the task. Cassandra decided to lighten the mood and gave a quick laugh. _"And people call me a pessimist." _she said before entering the war room for the Inquisition. It hadn't taken long for the changes of the late divine's writ to be implemented. Haven now served as the Inquisition's headquarters as it's close to the breach making it easier for them to keep an eye on activity surrounding it.

Well inside the war room by the table where all ornate candles and fabric had been removed and replaced with maps and various of documents and figures on a board. There were three other people in the room besides him and Cassandra. One of them was obviously Fereldan with his fair hair and stubble. He had the stance of a soldier, quite well-honed as marks of experience is to be found in his solemn eyes. The others was Sister Leliana and a second woman who was obviously aristocratic in her upbringing and her sunkissed skin went well along with her fine garments as she seem to hold a small wooden board wth parchment along a lit candle to illuminate the area where she takes notes with her delicate featherpen.

_"__May I present Commander Cullen, Leader of the Inquisition's Forces." _Cassanda introduced to the armed man who responded with a Feraldan accent where he hinted a tone of solemnity when responding. _"Such as they are. We've lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through." _He seemed to speak as of experience, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword as if out of habit.

Cassandra didn't allow further exchange of pleasentries as she proceeded to introduce the aristocratic woman. _"This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our Ambassador and Chief Diplomat." _The lady smiled back at him as she responded _"I've heard much It's a pleasure to meet you." _She spoke with an antivan accent and with the same delicate honeyed words of an aristocratic woman yet there was something sincere about her.

_"__And ofcouse you know Sister Leliana." _Cassandra continued as Leliana proceeded to make her own tasks known. _"My position here involves a degree of…" _until Cassandra interrupted bluntly. _"She is our spymaster."_

_"__Yes. Tactfully put, Cassandra." _Leliana commented on Cassandra's forwardness regarding her work for the Inquisition. Trevelyan decided to proceed to break the ice in the room. _"It's an impressive bunch of titles." _which had every ire soften up a tad as Cassandra decided to get to buisness.

_"__I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the beach for good." _Cassandra introduced, laying out their primary task. Leliana decided to lay her input. _"Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help."_

_"__And I still disagree. The templars could serve just as well." _Cullen voiced as Cassandra snorted before responding. _"We need power, Commander. Enough power poured into the mark—"_

_"__Might destroy us all. Templars could supress the breach, weaken it so—" _Cullen interrupted but before he could finish his own sentence, Leliana made her little shiv. _"Pure speculation." _which earned her a scowling ire from Cullen. _"__**I**__ was a templar. I know what they're capable of."_

_"__Unfortunately neither group will even speak to us yet." _Lady Montilyet diligently joined the conversation, drawing attention from the escalating debate wether to have the mages or templars assist them. _"The chantry has denounced the Inquisition and __you__, specifically." _she said as she gestured his way with her pen.

_"__That didn't take long." _Trevelyan responded as if he had half expeced it, they still think he killed the divine no doubt. Cullen turned his gaze towards Josephine. _"Shouldn't they be busy arguing over who's going to become next divine?"_

_"__Some are calling you 'Herald of Andraste' and that frightens the Chantry. The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy and we heretics for harboring you."_ The ambassador elaborated in response.

_"__Chancellor Roderick's doing no doubt." _Cassandra commented as Josephine continued. _"It limits our options. Approaching the Mages of Templars for help is currently out of the question." _

_"__Just how am __**I**__ the Herald of Andraste?" _Trevelyan asked, slightly puzzled but alson in truth unsettled by the title.

_"__People saw what you did at the temple. How you stopped the breach from growing. They have also heard about the woman seen in the rift when we first found you. They believe that was Andraste." _Cassandra elaborated as if she partly believed it yet didn't.

_"__Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading—" _Leliana continued until Cassandra inturrupted. _"Which we have not." _Leliana gave Cassandra a subtle scowl before her attention is returned to Trevelyan. _"The point is, everyone is talking about you." _

_"__It's quite the title, isn't it? How do you feel about that?" _Cullen asked, seemingly a bit amused but also curious about the whole ideal. _"It's… a little unsettling." _Trevelyan answered truthfully where as the former templar choked a laugh. _"I'm sure the Chantry would agree."_

Leliana took a deep breath as she continued to speak. _"People are desperate for a sign of hope. For some, you're that sign." _Josephine made her input. _"And to others, a symbol of everything that's gone wrong."_

Trevelyan could almost curse, how could he be placed in a situation like this. Why couldn't his older brother or sister been picked by this ordeal? Maxwell took a deep breath as to calm his nerves before he spoke once again. _"They aren't more concerned about the breach? The real threat?"_

_"__They do know it's a threat. They just don't think __**we**__ can stop it." _Cullen answered bluntly as Josephine elaborated further on his statement. _"The Chantry is telling everyone that you'll make it worse."_

This was much to take in, Trevelyan knew he already agreed to help but with opposition at every turn. How are they supposed to make a difference. As if by request, Leliana took the opportune moment to speak. _"There is something you can do. A chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I, her assistance could be invaluable."_

Trevelyan looked up, his ire placed upon Leliana _"Why would someone from the chantry want to help a declared heretic?" _he asked a bit sceptical. _"I understand that she is a reasonable sort. Perhaps she doesn't agree with her sisters?" _Leliana responded with her input of information. _"You will find mother Giselle tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe."_

Cullen seem eager to provide his own suggestion as if on queue. _"Look for other opportunities to expand the order's influence while you are there." _he asked with a hint of professionalism. The idea itself wasn't terrible. _"We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley, and you're better suited than anyone to recruit them." _Josephine elaborated further, as to make sure everything is understood.

_"__In the meantime, let's think of other options. I won't leave this all to the Herald." _Cassandra voiced as she leaned forward to inspect the map. Trevelyan was in thought as he himself eyed the map, ire placed upon the Hinterlands.

Mother Giselle was last seen in the Hinterlands outside Redcliffe, tending refugees who fled the fighting renegade templars and apostate mages. The latest reports suggest that the vicious struggle between the two groups has spread to the Hinterlands, catching the refugees and mother Giselle in the middle. It is vital to protect her and if possible restore order to the area. However, they needed more than reported, they need to send out scouts to get a better understanding of the situation.

…

Thrall had come about when he heard Hellscream roar and charge the Pit Lords, burying his axe into the demon's chest. He had bared witness to the death of the demon who had cursed his people to slavery. Where the demon erupted into flames and had subsided, Hellscream was gone.

In his place was a vortex of green energy, unmistakable magic but despite its familiarity with the magic used by Warlocks and demons. It seemed vastly different. Despite the absence of Hellscream, Thrall refused to believe that he was dead. He had to consult Jaina about this rift of magical energy.

He had left the canyon to meet a united Horde at the Warsong Lumber Camp. Where once many orcs had crimson eyes glowing, they had dimmed and vanished alltogether. All orcs, darkspear trolls and bloodhoof taurens stood there united, the Horde didn't only consists of the orcs anymore. Besides them was The Alliance, atleast those who followed Lady Jaina Proudmoore; Humans, High Elves and dwarves. They had all fought beside one another and the fate of their had been decided, they were free. Thrall noticed how Varok Saurfang, the old Warchief's second in command raise his axe and with a booming voice called out. _"Lok'tar!" _Many other orcs joined in the battle cheer and raised their axes in unision.

Thrall took a deep breath and raised the Doomhammer as he called for silence. _"Lok'tar warriors! Rest and tend to our wounded and burns the dead on pyres, all of them!"_

With those words he mounted Snowsong and headed further inside the Warsong Lumber Camp where the council were to gather. Jaina Proudmoore and Carine Bloodhoof was already there. The venerable Chieftain of the Bloodhoof Tauren acknowledged The Warchief with the same hospitality like the day they first met. _"Ish-ne-alo Po-rah Warchief, The Earthmother smiles upon your deed today." _He said with a gruff voice which hinted the elderly wisdom and kindness.

_"Thank you Cairne but it wasn't I who kill Mannaroth." _Thrall answered with a smile_. _Jaina Proudmoore smiled aswell, they were getting along quite well and the Archmage has proved herself invaluable when it came to free Hellscream from the legion's grasp. _"Miss Proudmoore, I'd like your assistance to investigate a magical anomaly in Demon Fall Canyon." _

The young archmage seemed both puzzled and intrigued by the request. _"I'll see to it once the war council has adjourned." _Thrall nodded his thanks_._

Soon enough they were joined by Drek'thar, the elderly Farseer of the Frostwolf Clan along with Nazgrel whom was among Thrall's most trusted advisors. Grom's second-in-command of the Warsong Clan; Battlemaster Gorgrok joined them aswell in spite of the injuries substained under the corruptive influence of demons. The two clans were the first to join under a New Horde lead by Orgrim Doomhammer to free the orcs from the Internment camps. Doomhammer died at the last internment camp and Thrall was urged to become the Warchief.

Vol'jin, the Jungle Troll Chieftain of the Darkspear Tribe whom had joined The Horde in their exodus to Kalimdor. They've so far proven to be as fierce as they're loyal, like the orcs they were outcasts even by their own race.

Last of the Horde attendants were Kargath Bladefist, the legendary founder and Chieftain of the Shattered Hand Clan. Of all members of Thrall's New Horde in attendance, he and the Shattered Hand was the most controversial yet highly respected as warriors. Bladefist earned his name by ripping his left hand to free himself from the ogre shackles underneath Highmaul. He had incited the other gladiatorial slaves to do the same and attached serrated blades to their cauterized stums. He stood tall at seven and a half feet with a bare upper body which was littered with scars which traditionally was mostly self-inflicted along with bone pieces which had been peeled underneath the skin, the most prominent were the three black-coloured bones by each shoulder. They valued strength above all else and cared little for the elements, a true remnant of the Old Horde.

Duke Lionheart, a Paladin of The Silver Hand joined the council meeting along shortly after accompanied by Ysuria, a High Elf mage whom prefered to wear her distinquishable white robes. Then came the more militant cohort headed by Commander Halford Wyrmbane whom has so far proved to be a much capable infantry commander in the recent battles so far on Kalimdor alongside the dwarven warrior August Foehammer. There were plenty of distasteful looks between the orcs and the Alliance attendants but once the war council had begun they took to their seats.

Thrall sat left to The High Chieftain of the Bloodhoof Tauren Cairne and other prominent members of The Horde while to his right was Jaina Proudmoores and the prominent members of her Alliance expedition.

_"I'd like begin this war council by making it known that Mannaroth the Destructor was slain by Hellscream. However he vanished alon—"_ Thrall spoke as Gorgork immediately rose, still battered and recovering from the demonic corruption yet all the same outraged _"Vanished?!" _ cried out which Thrall sighed as he continued. _"Yes Gorgrok, he is gone, Gorehowl aswell but take heart! I refuse to believe Hellscream is dead until I find Gorehowl. You will be in command of the Warsong in the meantime until we can determine if he's dead or alive."_

_"Fret not for Hellscream if he's alive then he will be found. However we've more pressing issues at hand." _Cairne spoke which seems to calm the Warsong down._ "The Demons." _Farseer Drek'thar spoke with distaste. Thrall turned to his old mentor and nodded. _"Indeed, we need to establish a forward base in Ashenvale to hunt down the demons while we push further into the land."_

_"I volunteer in this assignment." _Duke Lionheart spoke as he rose with an approving look from the orcs. _"Very Well, in the meantime we shall also establish a more permanent base here at the Warsong Camp to guard the warriors' families and young while the main force draws the demon's ire. Drek'thar this task falls to you."_

Drek'thar nodded, he had experience in leading with the absence of a Chieftain for many years now with the clan's exile due not drinking the demon blood back on Draenor. Of all the clans, they would be the most compliant with the task.

_"I hereby name this camp as Grommashar in honour of the orc who freed us from the blood curse. Gorgrok, I don't expect you to follow me while Grom is missing. Hence I'm going to let you stay in Grommashar to mourn the dead and regroup."_

Gorgrok frowned_, "A true Warsong spit in the face of death. We'll not stay behind while there are demons who yet live!" _Thrall smiled, exactly the answer he had hoped for. His ire was turned towards Nazgrel; the last living descendant of Kash'drakor, a hero of the Frostwolf Clan who fought in the Blood River War back on Draenor with the axe of Serathil which remains to this day a formiddable weapon. _"Nazgrel, you shall lead the Horde Vanguard with Kargath to break the demon ranks so we may reach Mount Hyjal before they do." _Kargath who ran his finger along the serrated edges of his bladefist as he looked up. His curled his lips into a sadistic grin.

_"__With all due respect, Kargath Bladefist and his clan's reputation preceeds themselves." _Commander Wyrmbane spoke with a measure of distaste. Thrall was about to respond when finally Jaina took the word to answer. _"Commander, while I do agree that Bladefist does have a dreadful reputation. Can you think of anyone else who'd make a lasting impression upon The Burning Legion as a vanguard?"_

In truth none of them couldn't, the Shattered Hand didn't fight conventionally and that is their strength. However, they're not known for their strategic brilliance either. Kargath Bladefist is a Warlord who beside Grommash Hellscream who drank the Blood of Mannaroth and was equally feared but not equally respected. _"Don't misunderstand, Lady Proudmoore but our forces will hardly look favorable upon—" _Nazgrel decided to step forward as he bared his teeth, interrupting the man's statement._"— an orc leading the Vanguard against The Burning Legion?" _The Frostwolf Commander sneered back at Commander Wyrmhide. _"I don't trust you humans but if my Warchief says that we'll fight beside you then I shall not defy his command. Kargath Bladefist mayfight in the Vanguard but I'll lead it." _He bellowed with a recognized authority which had the approval of several attendants, Alliance and Horde.

_"__Nazgrel is one of my trusted advisors, if that's not going to reassure you then I'm not sure what will." _Thrall decided to forward which had Commander Wyrmhide to swallow his pride and apologize. Some progress atleast is being made.

…

Scout Lieutenant Lace Harding grew up in the Hinterlands and knew it like the back of her hand. Naturally did she know if something was out of place. Especially when she heard a horrific and earsplitting shriek which had the birds flee in fright! When she first heard it, she ran towards it. Navigating through the steeps and ridges with tall trees and green grass of the Hinterlands like only a local would know. However, even with her knowledge she only arrived to find a massacre, a literal bloodbath.

It was all in a clearing not far from the road and it was littered with bodies of both apostates and renegade templars and it was outright nauseous for her to behold. It was easy to deduce this was the work of a third party, possibly by whomever that shriek belonged too. Was it a demon or something else entirely? Whatever it was, it had killed with a brutal effeciency unfound by any wildlife. The dwarf was quite frankly worried by the notion as she proceeded to hurry back to rendevouz with the other scouts.

She noticed several of the rifts across the Hinterlands and the fighting between the renegade templars and apostates whom weren't a part of the Mage Rebellion were found throughout the Hinterlands. They had found a small group of renegade templars and apostates fighting nearby when they were securing the perimeter of their camp. With the knowledge that neither party cared about who got caught in their crossfire made it easier for the Inquisition scouts and spies to let loose their arrows upon them. Once the camp was setup, Corporal Vale and some of the inquisition forces ventured down in hope to assist the refugees at the Crossroad but slow and steady the fighting it spreading there aswell and they've alltogether been unable to reach Arl Eamon's former horsemaster, Dennet in the west due to all the fighting.

She approached the ridge overlooking the village at the Crossroad where Mother Giselle was tending to the wounded, with a raven resting on her arm with her report. She let it fly to carry it to Haven.

…

Grommash Hellscream knew enough from his observations that the so-called _Hinterlands_ wasn't the same which the Wildhammer Clan was inhabiting. For one, he've not sighted a single gryphon and the most of the population are humans. No, he was somewhere else entirely and he wasn't sure were.

However, ever since he struck Mannaroth down he has felt different. The Blood haze has lifted. The demon's fire has burned out of his veins. He had finally freed himself. That was something to rejoice as he slurped the water from a pond with streams of water running down a waterfall not far away and saw for the first time, not the crimson glowing eyes but his actual eyes, the whites and the pale brown pupils. It had been decades since he had seen his actual eyes, there was always the blood haze clouding them and he had fought it, the urge to kill senselessly.

He snapped out as he heard the howl of wolves, he grinned. Somethings never changed. The wolves back on Draenor wasn't so different from the ones on Azeroth. Why would here be any different?

His gaze turned to look down into a valley where he saw more of the spellcasters and the armored humans fighting one another but for what? He had noticed how the spellcasters had attacked anything that moved. These weren't warriors, they were cowards like Gul'dan and his shadow council whom cared nothing but themselves.

Grommash knew from experience that giving in to bloodlust, to kill senselessly had only brought the orcish race low and defeated until Thrall came and restored them all, with the shamanistic traditions of the past instead of the foul arts of warlocks. He was grateful of Thrall having saved him and giving him a chance to redeem himself, he had slain Mannaroth and now he was somewhere else entirely all on his own with no clan or companion. He didn't know how bu the had only himself to blame. If he hadn't willingly drink the demon blood for the sole reason of defeating Cenarius and almost damn his people in the process then he would still be with his clan.

He silently prowled the wilderness to overlook the village at the Crossroad where many refugees were gathering as there seems to be way to many people in there than the structures to hold. There were many tents pitching close together and he could make out many of the wounded were treated by a woman in gowns which reminded him of the draenei anchorites back on Draenor. The very same he slaughtered without any hesitation in Shattrath City. Contemplating those memories now shamed him but what has brought them up here, why now? Why didn't he feel any delight in how these humans tearing themselves apart? Maybe it was because of the humans whom assisted Thrall to free him from Mannaroth's will which had somehow impacted him more deeply than he first thought? Maybe he owed the humans a debt for they willingness to help Thrall freeing him? If so, then it's only honourable to repay that debt.

**Author's Note: **Hello again! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter! I'll try to keep this story updated as much as possible. Also, what do you think of the AU-elements so far in my story? At any rate, do you want more warcraft hurled into Thedas besides Grommash, if so then who?

Also, why don't they seriously have any character tags for _Grommash Hellscream_ whom isa major lore character?


	3. Chapter 3

I, Varric Tethras may have spun many yarns over the years, the most prominent which was more of a true story than a yarn with the Champion of Kirkwall. My next yarn is of the same spirit, a true story which so far is a mess in my humble opinion. Maxwell Trevelyan became the most wanted man in all of Thedas and then joins the army of the faithful, all in the course of a day.

The Inqusition forces were trying to protect the refugees at the Crossroads which proved to be even more dangerous by the hour. There were several reasons for them being there. One, they needed to get to Mother Giselle. Two, the Crossroads is of strategic value which the Inquisition required to control if order is to be restored to the Hinterlands. Three, they needed the people on their side.

I may have told many stories but still didn't know if he really wanted to be present for this one. Don't get me wrong, this was once in a lifetime opportunity to tell a major epic which would be remembered for eons but being their actually experiencing the stuff? It really turned the allure of such a tale to something anything but alluring.

The air was thick with the scent of scorched earth and chunks of ice laying across the settlement like splinters from cracked wood. The renegade templars and apostates clashed in a fierce engagement and neither seemed willing to listen to reason.

Trevelyan joined the frey with his shield raised to take the blunts of the enemies attacks. Both he and the Seeker wore steadfast chestplated haubreks with pauldrons and gauntlets carrying the Inquisition's insignia, a sword thrust through an eye radiating like a sun. The Seeker had Trevelyan's back, denying anyone the opportunity to flank them as myself was content giving them ranged support with Biance, who shot bolt after bolt at a supressive rate which denied the enemy manuverbility. Finally we had Solas, the elven apostate whose magical proficency rivaled anything I had seen back with the Champion of Kirkwall and that was saying something.

Solas had made an acute observation when he declared that both sides were beyond reason and their words would be wasted which I was cynical about at first until we actually reached the Crossroads. Why did Chuckles had to be right?

"Be ready! More coming our way!" Solas declared after the first group of templars and apostates had been dealt with. The elven apostate spoke true as more came both from the south and north which had the Inquisition divided at two fronts. I'm not a tactical genius but the Inquisition forces were now in a tight spot which could end really badly.

That's when I first heard it, the earsplitting and horrific shriek of a battle cry. I turned around to see where it had come from and what I saw literally made my jaw drop. If the adrenaline wasn't already coarsing through our veins from the combat, I would literally be frozen in fight at the sight of the green massive nightmarish being wielding a wicked two-handed axe cleaving an apostate in half, shattering the arcane shield like if it was nothing but wind.

His green skin and raven-hued hair along with a lower jaw black as pitch gave Varric pause as he dashed forward, swirling around and cleaved two other apostates by their abomnens, ripping the entrails and organs relentlessly as he fought with a fierce but focused fury as his voice boomed "**LOK'TAR OGAR!**" He rushed past us, right at the renegade templars which I swear was shaking in fright!

Then it dawned on me, he was helpingus by clearing the apostates so they could focus on a single front. This greenskin, this warrior was fighting with them! My curiousity peaked as much as he's intimated by the warrior whose intimidation factor rivalled the Arishok's and his fighting prowess aswell. Mind you, I was there when Hawke had defeated the Arishok in single combat so I ought to know.

The warrior's axe sang with every swing and despite his size moved with a brutal grace and precision which I had never seen before. With the arrival of this newcomer the tide was quickly turned to our favour and it didn't take long until we had victory.

The warrior looked like quite unphased but I saw his lips curled up to a satisfied smile as he turned around to face the wary glances.

Blood were dripping down like rain drops from the sharply curved axe head, with an intricate series of grooves in it, is massive, well worn, and permanently stained with old blood. Its wickedly curved blade has two notches in it, and many small holes in the head near the handle.

"Throm-ka. You fought well, for pigskins." he said with a deep and booming voice which carried uncontested authority. "Your soldiers tried to defend this settlement from these two groups, why?"

The Seeker step towards the warrior with her blade raised and pointed towards him like if she was about to attack. "We're trying to restore order. Maker preserve us, what are you?" She asked stoicly as she stood with obviously a hostile stance.

I glanced over to Chuckles who stood like frozen, actually aghast by the sight of the bare-chested greenskin with tribal tattoos all over his chest. The wild mane of hair and the single pauldron strapped like sturdy harness to his harness. "Chuckles, what is that?" I whispered, the elf snapped back as he responded. "Well, he's obviously not an abomination, I saw no sign of magic being used by him." I nodded, well that was atleast something.

The warrior's ire turns towards the seeker rather undaunted in his expression. "What am I?" he asked in a rhetorical manner as one of his eyebrows perked. "You don't know?"

We all looked at him in silence for a moment or two. "No, we don't. Should we?" the Seeker responded, undaunted by the warrior who raised his booming voice for all to hear. "My name Grommash Hellscream, Chieftain of the Warsong Clan and my people, the orcs are proud warriors!" I couldn't help but feel some dread when I heard him speak, the more inexperienced probably soiled their pants at the sight of this orc or hear him speak.

"I've never heard of the Warsong Clan or the orcs for that matter._"_ Trevelyan spoke up as he step forward. The seeker scowled at him momentarily as he addressed her. "Step back Trevelyan we don't know his intentions, he could—"

"He could've killed us if it so pleased him. He in fact turned the tide of this battle for us against the renegades and apostates." He retorted like a viper, interrupting the Seeker whose face was getting red as she stepped back as to allow Trevelyan to speak for them. A wise choice, he atleast was more diplomatic. "Thank you for assisting us. However, I'm sure we would all love to hear why?"

The proud orc stood there as he responded with some reluctance. "To repay a debt, humans assisted my Warchief in saving my soul and that of my people."

"I see. Well, Grommash. I'm Maxwell Trevelyan of The Inquisition." He spoke diligently and to be frank, quite bold as he stood face to face with Grommash who by the looks of it seemed suprised by the human's courage like the rest of them.

"What is the Inquisition, is it a part of the Alliance?" He inquired with a tone which indicates a measure of respect as if he saw something different. Trevelyan looked a bit confused, what was this Alliance anyway? "I don't know anything about the Alliance. The Inquisition seeks to close the breach and restore order to Thedas." He elaborated but Grommash seemed a bit bemused but nodded curtly in response. Why the bemused expression, is it because that we're not a part of the so-called Alliance or is there something else Trevelyan said?

"An admirable goal, human. Honour demands that my debt is repaid in full." He declared and his gaze sweeped at the rest of us in a challenging manner. "This was going to get interesting." I whispered to Chuckles whom nodded in concurance with my statement.

"Very well, Grommash. We'd be happy to have you in the Inquisition." Trevelyan said diligently in his best attempt to be polite but the orc scoffed. "I'm not joining the Inqusition, human. I'll fight with you, not for you. Gol'Kosh, I will only answer to the Warchief of The Horde." he snarled in response, baring his teeth as to indicate that this wasn't up for debate. The Seeker didn't seem the least amused by it and Chuckles was staring right at the orc.

"Very well, why don't you accompany us while we deal with the immediate threats in the Hinterlands?" Trevelyan suggested where the orc chieftain perked a brow. "We'll first have to secure the Crossroads before we deal with the renegades and apostates."

The Orc chieftain seemed to ponder the offer, actually considering by his facial expression. So he was not just a brute but a thinker aswell? Those are the most dangerous ones. _"Very well human. I will show you and your Inquisition what it means to be Warsong by striking into the Heart of these renegades and apostates." _he responded as his grip of the axe shaft tightened, he maybe wasn't exactly thrilled. Yep, this was going to get **very** interesting.

…

I could feel their eyes even when I have my back turned, the Inquisition forces here and their Corporal Vale were wary of **me** as they should. I sat down by the campfire. Gorehowl resting on my lap as I slided the whetstone along the edges over and over again in preparation of it to sing. A more hot-headed Grommash Hellscream would've slaughtered them all, even without his Clan to fight with him.

However this Grommash knew better, he had fought the bloodlust for fifteen years ever since me and my clan were stuck on Azeroth. The orcish race was in a lethargy until he came, Thrall. My advisor Iskar had him complete trials before he was granted an audience with me. First he had defeated someof my finest twarriors and then he was ordered to kill a human child. He had refused even when threatened with death. For one so young, he had wisdom. He had ideals and honour befitting of a leader. One that I followed without regret.

Dark skies and stars shrouded the sky as the embers in the fire crackled in deligh as the cleanshaven dwarf sat down, his eyes locked upon me. I knew that look, it hinted the same amount of cunning as Kargath Bladefist except the dwarf lacked the same ruthlessness. "What do you want, dwarf?"

"Just to get to know the strangest thing besides the Breach." The dwarf said with a solemn tone. Grommash knew what he talked about, the hole in the sky and smaller rifts into what they called the fade where demons came through and attacked anything in sight. "I'm not here for your amusment." I replied as I bared my teeth as if about to snarl. I didn't like the idea of co-operating with the pigskins of this Inquisition. However I needed answers and I'm obviously not in Azeroth anymore with the human's appearant ignorance of my people's existance.

"Trust me, you're the last person right now I want to get on the wrong foot with." The dwarf said with a forced chuckle, actually trying to be what humans refer as civil. I stared right back at him, my whetstone no longer sharpening the axe as the dwarf gulped. "So anyway, you said that you were the Chieftain of the Warsong Clan. How come you are here alone?" he continued slightly startled but refused to bulk despite my stare.

It was obvious that he had never seen an orc before Which reinforced his belief that he was no longer on Azeroth.

"We got seperated." I bluntly answered. "By what if I may ask?"

"Fate."

The dwarf frowned at the answer. "Alright, why don't you tell me about your clan?"

"We hailed from the fertile grasslands of Nagrand where the hunts were rich and the plains stretched beyond the horizon." I spoke mildly as a smile curled up on my lips. "In the heart of the savannah rests the sacred mountain of Oshu'gun, its crystalline walls gleaming beneath soft-hued skies. It was in that mountain's shadow where all the clans came to celebrate Kosh'harg twice a year when day and night had the same length during autumn and spring."

The dwarf seems to soften up a bit as he pondered what I had just told him. "Sounds like a wonderful tradition."

"Indeed, it was also an occasion for all Chieftains and Shamans to talk with one another." I told the dwarf who listens attentivly. "Of all the Clans, the Warsong was the strongest. My great grandfather used Gorehowl to kill six legendary gronn. Their hearts are sealed into the blade, granting it untold strength." My hand patted the axe in my lap. I saw the intrigue and curiosity in the dwarf's eyes.

"Gorehowl huh? Fitting name." He commented with what I recognized as restrained awe. Maybe peace between us and them was achievable.

...

"Didn't you see him fight, Trevelyan? He fought more fierce than any Qunari or any abomination that I have ever seen!" The Seeker argued harshly with her accent breaking through every syllable.

I frowned at the prospect, we've argued for a while now on the topic of Grommash Hellscream. What was he and where did he come from was the question which escalated fast into a debate if he was a demon or not. "He turned the tide for us back there. Didn't you see how the renegade templars shook in fright?"

"People fear him aswell and rightly so, he could be an abomination for all we know!" Cassandra interjected with a tone which I recognized as uncertainty.

Solas then entered the tent with the same calm and pragmatic expression of his as he cleared his throat to get our attention. "I have a theory, If I may seeker?"

We exchanged glances and Solas nodded in agreement. "Thank you. Now firstly let's be clear about one thing. He's **not** an abomination." He initially spoke in elaboration. "However, considering that he's the first orc ever witnessed since the Breach. It's only logical to presume that he is not of this world."

"Are you telling us that he may have come from somewhere else beyond the Fade?" I asked a bit unsettling by the news. The very idea challanged the Andrastian Faith and the Chantry which may be why I felt my knees ache.

"Possibly, yes. However he's not a spirit or an abomination. Where else could he have come from?" The words made both me and Cassandra ponder, Solas' theory was sound. "Let's not jump to conclusions, we've yet to actual determine if he's a friend or foe. He's better off with us than out there on his own." I finally declared as I shot a glance towards Cassandra, expecting an objection which never came. For the first time today since their arrival to the Hinterlands, they were agreeing on something.

...

There he stood, all in his majesty. Illidan Stormrage was in awe before the great demonlord Kil'jaedan who was of a massive size with a bulky muscular body and a long tail. Two dragon-like wings sprouted forth from his shoulderblades as the burning pauldrons complimented his crimons skin and fel burning eyes. His legs curved backwards with hooves as feet and where he treaded, not only did the grass die but very soil itself. His appearance was both nightmarish yet beautiful and as Supreme Commander of the Burning Legion, he was probably the most dangerous demon which Illidan had the pleasure of coming face to face with.

"Illidan, in the past you have been both friend and foe to the Burning Legion. But, by consuming the Skull of Gul'dan, you sealed our defeat in this world. I come to offer you a second chance to serve us." His voice boomed throughout the glade, his tone hinted that his choice was either to accept or suffer.

"What would you have me do, great one?" Illidan offered in return, the demon hunter had changed ever since the Skull of Gul'dan had come into his possession. His torso was still covered with arcane tattoos but now instead of feet he had hooves which scorced the earth where ever he treads. He had wings growing out of his shoulderblades and horns from his forehead above the blindfold where his eyes used to be, they had been replaced by Sargeras as a gift to see magic as never before. He wielded the warglaives of Azzinoth which had since started to glow uneeringly as it has been imbued with more magic than he had ever hoped to possess.

"A inter-dimensional rift of potent magic has opened upon Mannoroth's Death in Demon Fall Canyon. Through it lies Thedas, a vast world on the brink of tearing itself apart. Conquer it and I'll grant you your heart's desire." Kil'jaedan commanded as his hand lifted and a finger acutly pointed in the direction of the gift while the other hand clenched into a fist as it starts to burn seethingly and powerful for a inimidating effect.

"It shall be done, great one. It shall be done." Illidan replied in compliance to the Supreme Commander of the Burning Legion. Inwardly smiling at the prospect of conquest and the reward awaiting him for it.

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay, chapter three is here and I took LuckyFractal's advise of not having the dialogue with italic. Also you may have noticed my attempt of having a first person point of view throughout the chapter. I may continue that line of writing if there's a demand for it. All the same, I decided to give the storyline a twist with having The Burning Legion interfere in the Dragon Age universe. I hope you won't kill me if I say _you are not prepared_ what awaits you in the next chapter.

Please do me a favour and don't be a idle reader, review this chapter!


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